A Sinner Amongst Saints
by IWriteSinsOrTragedies
Summary: The events of The Battle of New York left there scars on the world, and for some find those scars hard to fade. A story about my idea of where Clint Barton was in those two years between Avengers and Age of Ultron after the reveal of a certain aspect of Barton's past. MAJOR SPOILER WARNING FOR AGE OF ULTRON! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. Rated for language. Separate from my other sotries
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N) SERIOUS SPOLIER WARNING. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN AGE OF ULTRON DO NOT READ! CLICK THAT LITTLE BACK ARROW AND COME BACK ONCE YOU'VE SEEN THE MOVIE.  
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All I could do for the past three days was stare at the door. I felt helpless as memorizing the cracking white paint on the broken down wood that Clint said he was going to fix after his latest project. It was a bad habit of his to fix everything that he could, there was never something that didn't need improving. I may give Clint grief for it, but honestly its more endearing than annoying. Then again it would be nice if there wasn't a gaping hole in the deck. There's nothing I can do about the deck Clint hates two things in life, at least the one he is privileged to share with me. One being an unbalanced bow, and the other was people he didn't know showing up at the house; especially when he wasn't there. Something that can be seen as being over protective but there are a lot of dangerous people out there who would love a chance to either kill us or use us against Clint. Even so Clint would pout for days if someone else finished his project. I just hoped he would come back to finish the job.

It's been four days since my last call from Clint, my condition for him working around the world for unknown amounts of time, and the second that I didn't get that call three days ago I knew something was wrong. He knows how much those calls mean for me and if he knows that he is going to be in a position where he can't pick up a phone he has Phil send me a message. That was our deal. So even as my stomach rolled and twisted itself into anxious knots I told myself that he was just a preoccupied and would call soon. Two hours later I started to worry.

Three hours after the time he was supposed to call my phone went off and I hit the answer button before the first ring could stop, at that point I still hadn't decided if I was angry at him or just relieved that he called. Before I could say anything to him Nick's voice came through the phone's speaker. Ice went through my body as I heard the words that left me constantly checking my door for the next three days.

"Clint's been taken."

After that time passed like a sloth. Everything seemed to drag on lazily as days meshed together. My fear only got worse when The Battle of New York happened. I never saw Clint on any of the news coverage, but there was footage of one of those alien things about to attack a family until an arrow ripped through its neck. I only know of one person who has the accuracy and ego to aim for the neck. Clint was there. That was yesterday. Today I waited for him to come home while Cooper did his homework and Lila took her nap. Lila is barely out of diapers so I couldn't tell her about what happened to her father, that he was taken, and Cooper was to young to understand what was going on. I could tell that Cooper knew something was wrong but I don't think that he knows what exactly happened.

Then, there it was.

The anxiety of the past few days was about to finish eating away at me when I heard it. The beautiful sounds of a quinjet landing in the field, I couldn't stop myself from pushing past the broken down door and jumping over the hole in the deck to get outside as quickly as possible. Because there it was, I never thought I would miss the sight of a dark grey jet sitting on the freshly mowed lawn, and then there he was.

Nat was with him, an arm slung around his waist to help keep weight off his left foot. His arm was around her shoulder and he leaned on her more than he supported his on weight. For every painful looking step they took towards me I had made three strides in my sprint towards him, my eyes watering with tears of relief that let loose as I saw him. He was injured, yes. But Clint was alive.

"Clint!" I yelled as I got closer to him. I don't think I've ever ran that fast in my life.

He looked up, slower than his reflexes usually allowed, and his stormy grey eyes seemed to brighten when he saw me. Something I'm sure was partially because of how quickly he pushed any sign of physical pain in his features so he wouldn't worry me. But I was already worried. And now a few feet away.

I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my arms around my, obviously injured, , husband. His breath hitched slightly but I was unable to get myself to let go of him. "You're okay," I whispered into his ear, if it was a question or a statement of my own relief was unknown to me.

"I'm okay." His deep voice was hitched with pain, but he didn't push me away. No, he wrapped the arm that wasn't around Nat's shoulder to wrap around my waist and pull me closer. His breathing was labored and I immediately recognized the sound of him attempting to breath with broken ribs. I tried to pull away- I didn't want to hurt him accidentally, but he didn't let me go. No, he buried his face in my neck and latched on to me. Something happened to him, something bad.

I was so lost in the shock of seeing Clint again that I almost didn't notice his legs giving out beneath him. The world snapped back into real time for the first time in three days, everything slid in to focus. I pulled away and saw Clint's injuries rather than just him being here for the first time, it was horrifying.

There were an abundance of small cuts all over his body- the largest of them were held together by butterfly stitches while the smaller ones were hidden by simple bandages. I noticed the cut in his pant leg were someone had sliced the fabric open to reveal the wound underneath. A long gagged cut that had been expertly stitched together. There was also a worrying bruise that laid just below his hairline. But the most troubling wasn't a cut or a bruise but how drawn he looked. He obviously hasn't had much, if any, sleep since he had been taken. I doubt that he had much to eat or drink either.

I think that Natasha might have said something but I didn't care. All I did, and could do, was follow Clint as he slid to the ground.

"You wanna try the 'I'm okay' thing again?" I asked my husband that laid on the ground panting one arm clutching Natasha's shoulder like a life line.

He laughed dryly before sucking in a deep, shaky, breath. "Not really." His eyes screwed tight in pain, his leg was probably killing him from whatever had happened to it. When he opened them again they were less lucid than they were when I first saw them, and more broken than they had been before his latest mission. His concussion was worse than I anticipated. "Long time, no see."

"To long." I pushed the hair away from his bruise to get a better look at it.

Clint's eyes left me and focused on something behind me. "Cooper."

I twisted around to see Cooper staring at us all wide eyed with the fear at the sight of his father lying on the ground in pain.

No, he shouldn't be seeing this. "Cooper," I called while trying to keep my tone as calm and reassuring as possible. "Go back inside honey. Everything is fine, why don't you go out back and play?"

Cooper ignored my request. "What's wrong with dad?"

Clint shifted so that he could make eye contact with our scared son. "Everything's fine, Coop. Listen to your mother and go and play, everything will be fine. There's just some boring adult stuff we gotta do- then you can help me fix that hole that I'm sure your mom's been complaining about for the last few days. Alright?"

Running with the small comfort that Clint gave him Cooper nodded. There was hesitation as he started to head the other direction, but eventually he was out of sight and I could put my attention back to my husband; even though I knew there was going to be a very hard conversation with Cooper very soon.

Meanwhile Nat was trying to coax Clint into standing up again. "Come on Barton, you've had worse than this." She attempted to pull him up, but his leg wasn't having it.

"Something's wrong with it." He muttered, "Something's wrong with the wound. It hurts to much." He clawed away the fabric to reveal a large bruise that made itself known in the middle of his calf.

Nat swore, I assume, in russian when she saw the growing bruise on his calf. She abandoned her position, so he was no lying flat on his back, and holding him up to probe his calf. "He's bleeding internally."

Of course he was. I swear if he dies I will pull him right back down and kill him over again. "What do we do?"

"Get him inside. I'll do what I can for him, but I'll have to call in a medic." Nat glanced at the house then back at Clint who had was clenching my hand with a near bone breaking grip. I'm sure there was barely anything restraining him from doing it now. "The kids shouldn't see him like this."

I nodded in agreement. No child should have to see their parents in this much pain, hell I don't want to see him in this much pain and I 'm sure Nat would agree with me. "Do we have much choice?"

"You know," Clint said out of the blue, "I could try building us a new tractor. It's only a matter of time before that one breaks down."

Oh no. Clint only comes up with these crazy home renovations when he's stressed or delirious, and with the state he's in I assume it wasn't the first of the two. "I'll handle the kids, let's just get him inside before he decides to redo the whole farm."

"Agreed." Nat looped her arms under my husbands knees and I grabbed him underneath the shoulders and we started to carry my battered and bleeding husband to the house that he left a gaping hole in the deck.

Whatever happened to him over the last few days left its mark, and even though Clint was here and safe, it was going to take a long time to get him to realize that. I definitely have my work cut out for me getting him back to the man he was before he left, but I've always like a challenge.

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 **(A/N) Okay I've wanted to write this ever since I've seen Clint's wife. I do love Clintasha with all of my heart, but I also really love Laura Barton. I love how she is so supportive of him. So less than twelve hours after I saw the movie I started this fic. I don't really know were I'm going with this yet, but I'm excited to find out.**


	2. Chapter 2

Clint moaned deeply as Nat and I lowered him onto our bed. Immediately his hands tightened in the fabric of the quilt that laid on top of it; his hand twisting around it like a snake. He clenched his eyes shut and turned his head into the pillow, his whole body writhing like he was trying to crawl out of his skin.

"This is just like when I first met your parents." Clint attempted a joke, most likely to make it seem like he wasn't in as much pain as he obviously was.

"You weren't dying when you met my parents." I reminded him. Taking his hand in my right while my left hand stroked his hair to comfort him. The pain he was in was intense. I could tell.

He let out a strained chuckle. "You and I remember that very differently." His eyes seemed to catch something over my shoulder. I turned to see a picture of Cooper holding Lila after we brought her home from the hospital.

I remember that day so perfectly even though it was nearly two years ago. Clint and I had planned for a home birth, like we had done with Cooper. It set Clint at ease to know that we wouldn't be in any public records, and I couldn't help but agree with him that it was better that we keep our family away from anyone who held a grudge against Hawkeye and decided to come after Clint. But there were complications that we couldn't handle that made a trip to the local hosptial necessary. Clint had to pull some strings to keep our names out of any official documents and Cooper had to be watched by Nat for a few days, but in the end everything worked out. Two days after that photo was taken.

The photo was a happy memory, but Clint looked worried.

"Cooper is going to be okay." I comforted but he didn't look convinced. "He's stronger than most kids are his age."

He nodded but didn't look convinced. "He shouldn't have to be," a flash of guilt passed over his face. "You should be with him and Lila. They need you right now."

I couldn't argue with him on that. Cooper may be strong, but any kid who sees his father in the state that Clint is in right now needs help. But Clint also needs me right now. Thankfully Nat saw my inner turmoil.

"I've got this. You go take care of your kids. Besides I need someone to tell the medics were to go when they get here." Something in me still couldn't leave a bloody, pained, Clint alone. "They need you more than he does right now."

I nodded. Somehow Nat always seemed to know exactly what to say to get people to do what she wants, whether for her best interest or theirs. "I'll be right outside. Okay?"

He nodded as well. "Go, I'll be fine."

I quickly kissed him on the forehead before heading to the door. "You better be," I said over my shoulder while exiting the door.

I nearly ran over my daughter when I left the room. Worry was the main emotion that presented itself in her sleepy eyes. "Lila, what are you doing up?"

"Is something wrong with daddy?" She asked in reply.

Kneeling down to her level I grabbed her hands in mine- thank everything there is to think that there was no blood on my hands. "Daddy is going to be just fine. Remember what I always tell you whenever you get scared like you are right now? "

"Daddy's a hero," she repeated from memory.

"And your father is the best of them all. Whatever happens you know he will always keep fighting, no matter what, you know that." I left no room for debate and felt my heart soar when my daughter gave me a little, cautious, smile. "Now what do you say that while I go and get your brother that you go watch out the window for some people who are coming to help your father. If they get here before Coop and I get back yell for Aunty Nat. Okay? She's upstairs with your dad right now so I want you to only bother her if they get here before I do. Got it?" She nodded. "That's my girl," I held up my hand for her to high-five, something she did enthusiastically.

Standing back up I led her down the stairs and to the front door were she perched herself on the couch to look out the window. One down, and only one more to go.

I found Cooper exactly where I thought that he would be. Sitting in the tree house his dad had made him as his last birthday present. It wasn't anything extravagant, but Cooper love for it goes to no end. But he wasn't having fun inside of the fortress now, instead he had his legs drawn up to his chest and sat in the corner looking terrified. It broke my heart to see him crying.

I didn't say anything right away. Instead I joined him sitting to his immediate right letting my legs stretch out in front of me and leaning against the wooden wall. After a few moments of silence I spoke. "Did I ever tell you how I met your dad?" He didn't answer. "It was almost ten years ago. I was walking home when I heard some people shouting in an ally. Curiosity got the best of me and I looked down the alley and there he was. He was getting bullied by these guys who were thought that they could take advantage of him. Your dad was outnumbered and they beat him up pretty bad.

"I yelled at them to stop but that only got their attention on me. One of them was about to try and hit me when your dad came up behind them and scared them off. Once they were gone your father looked at me, all cut up and stuff, and you know what he said to me? He said 'are you okay?'" He wasn't just cut up, I just didn't want to describe it to her son how Clint was bruised and bleeding from more places than he wasn't.

There were a lot of things I didn't tell him about how we met. Like how I offered to let Clint stay at my apartment for the night, since that was not a good lesson on how to deal with strangers. Also how it took a month of us dating until I learned that Clint was homeless, it took two bottles of wine and me trying to hail him a cab for that bit of information to come in to light. But that was all either irrelevant to what my son needed right now, or was a story for when he was older.

Cooper still didn't say anything. His gaze stayed on the wall in front of him.

"I'm telling you this because even when knocked down your dad always gets back up."

He still didn't look convinced. "What if he can't? What if one day he doesn't come back home?" Fresh tears fell down his face.

I hushed him softly and wrapped an arm around my son. Coop was a quiet kid, a lot like his father in the sense that he kept his emotions deep inside and every now and then he would burst. Luckily I've been handling Clint for the past twelve, nearly thirteen, years and Cooper for the past eight so I've got a decent knowledge on how to handle emotional time bomb detonations.

"I know what you saw was scary, I would be lying to you if I said I wasn't a little scared too. But your dad is a hero and he will always be here for us. You know that Aunty Nat and your uncles wouldn't let anything happen to him. In fact right now they are sending a huge jet full of guys just to make sure that your dad is in his best possible health."

He looked up at me, tears made his eyes glitter. "Really?"

I ruffled his hair and gave a reassuring smile. "Really. In fact it should be any second now. Now your aunt has to stay with dad so why don't you say that we go and wait for the jet to get here?"

He nodded and pushed himself off the ground. Once we were both effectively on the ground I grabbed his hand and headed back to the house to find Lila sitting on the couch looking between the blinds for the medical team.

I sat down next to her and pulled her onto my lap, Cooper sat on the armrest, and together we all waited for the medical team.


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N) Bit of Clint in this chapter and more to come. I just wanted to establish Laura's character since we weren't given a lot on her in the movie, which is the main reason that I decided to write for her. But now I think it's time we get into this.**

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The med team got there soon enough and, with years of field training, effectively stopped the bleed in our bedroom. Considering that was something I didn't even know was possible I found it even more impressive. But it did take a long time for them to get the bleed to stop, stabilize him, and whatever else that they needed to do to get Clint healthy again.

Lila and Cooper wanted to stay up and wait to see their father, and I was willing to let them. Until 9'o clock came around and it was time for them to go to bed. The chorus of disapproval was immediate when I told them they had to brush their teeth and get ready. As much as I wanted them to see Clint when this was all over, and I knew that he would definitely want to see his children, it was bedtime and the one day I let them stay up past it is the day that they know that they can talk me into staying up. So off to bed I sent them.

Lila was easy enough to get to bed since she didn't really understand the severity of her father's injuries so she didn't have a large reason to be worried. But Cooper on the other hand had seen his father collapse, and though he didn't want to talk about it, and I don't need Cooper to follow in Clint's footsteps of sleepless nights.

It took the longest time for Coop to fall asleep but eventually his eyes closed and his breathing relaxed. I still waited in his room just to make sure he wasn't faking it though. Which is how Natasha found me, sitting on Cooper's floor playing idly with one of his many transformer toys.

"How are the kids?" She asked from the doorway, light silhouetted her slim figure.

I brushed some of Cooper's hair from his face. He was definitely asleep by now so I stood up to take the conversation into the hallway. It took too long for him to fall asleep for me to ruin it with conversation.

Once the door was firmly closed behind me I answered Natasha who looked exhausted; I elected to ignore the small smear of blood on her cheekbone. "The kids are fine, they have their dads strength. Speaking of Clint how is he?"

"The medics stopped the bleed and want to give him some painkillers. But," there was always a but when it came to Clint, "he won't let them anywhere near him until he sees you."

My sigh may have sounded over dramatic but it was the best way to describe what I was feeling in the moment. "Of course he won't. He hates doing things the easy way doesn't he?"

Natasha laughed at the sad truth of my statement. "I'm pretty sure if he did something the easy, boring, pain and stress free way he would die of boredom. That's part of the reason Phil recommended him to be an Avenger I guess."

"Speaking of Phil, where is he?" Lila had been asking where uncle Phil and uncle Nick were. I assumed that Nick was busy running an undercover agency, but Phil was almost always at Clint's side when my husband was injured. Phil wasn't only Clint's handler but he was like his brother.

Dread passed over Natasha's face and she swore a bit in Russian. "I didn't tell you, did I? Shit, I still need to tell Clint."

"Nat, what happened?" I already knew the answer. The twisting in my stomach that made me want to throw up made that very clear. I didn't want to believe it though.

Natasha quickly regained her composure, a skill I was extremely jealous of at this point in my day. "I can't explain everything to you right now, but I promise I will after we get Clint his medication." She turned down the hall back to the master bedroom.

"Natasha," she stopped and took a deep breath before turning to face me. "Phil's dead isn't he? And don't give me any of that manipulative spy bullshit. I've had too long of a day to be screwed with right now. So tell me right now," I switched to my 'mom voice' to get extra authority, "is Phil dead?"

She opened her mouth to say something but for the first time I had ever seen from Natasha, who could talk her way out of any situation, she was speechless. Instead of saying anything she closed her mouth and plainly nodded.

I just wanted to crawl into a corner at this point and sob until this nightmare was over. But I didn't have the luxury. "Let me tell Clint the news, please. I think it would be best."

Natasha nodded and without a word turned to lead me back to my room. Once we reached the door she hesitated before opening it. "When you go in I don't want you to be worried, Clint is going to be fine. He's a bit on edge right now, which is usual for him when injured. He would never consciously hurt you, but I would still be cautious of him. In my experience instinct always beats rational thought."

No part of me believed that Clint would ever hurt me. But on the other hand I didn't have the experience with him hurting like Natasha did, and though I would never say that I wish I didn't miss out on all the moments that Clint gets injured in his missions, I wish that I had a bit more experience with him in this state than I did. Just so that I had a bit more background knowledge on what helped and didn't feel like I was going in blind.

When Natasha opened the door and I stepped inside the room I didn't know what I was expecting. Maybe some kind of torture mill look with blood smeared everywhere. When in reality it looked pretty much exactly as it always had. There were, of course, far to many people inside for my comfort. But other than them, and their medical equipment, everything was pretty much the same. After more careful observation I noticed that the floor was wet along with a mop that sat in a bucket in the corner. I guess that explained the lack of blood that should have been on the floor.

Clint's barely focused eyes found me immediately. "Hey." His voice was thickened with pain. "You come here often?"

I couldn't help but groan at the cheesy comment. "First I've seen you in days and that's the first thing that comes to your bird brain. That's just sad." I went over to his side, making care to step around the IV line that went into the back of his left hand.

He seemed almost offended. "Hitting me when I'm down. And even worse than that you attack my sense of humor? You should take Natasha's job because that is truly cruel."

"You just want an excuse to whisk me away to exotic countries with the promise of excitement and intrigue."

"That was the plan. You caught me." Weakly he raised his hands in a mock surrender. The lines around his eyes tightened in pain as he shifted slightly in attempts to find a more comfortable position.

"Clint," I said in the calmest tone of voice possible. "You need to let the doctor help with the pain. I'm right here, you're fine, and you need to let them take care of you."

The doctors walked towards us with a syringe at the ready, but one glare from Clint and they held back. I would have smacked him upside the head if he wasn't injured.

"The kids-" Clint started saying before I cut him off.

"Are fine. They were a bit spooked, but they'll be a whole lot better after they sleep. Which is what you should be doing."

He gave the medics another glare keeping them and their drugs at bay. "I don't want them to see me like this. I talked to Nat about this before the medics got here, and she's going to bring the kids to your parents in the morning. Just until I'm on my feet again."

Honestly I had been thinking about sending the kids off for a while myself. Clint and I needed a bit of us time to figure out what the hell to do next after his field trip off to who knows where along with his party with the Avengers.

"It's fine, mom and dad have been wanting to see the kids for a while now anyways." I looked over to the medics and nodded slightly at them to signal it was okay to approach. "Now I want you to let the nice medics give you whatever drugs they see fit okay? It's been a long day and no offense but you look like crap."

He chuckled and winced a bit, cradling his ribs. My husband never took getting injured lightly. He always had to go big or go home. And no set of injuries was ever complete without a few ribs being damaged.

"You always know how to flatter me don't you?" He asked with a smirk coming across his face. He eyed the medics nervously but didn't stop them as they put the needle into the IV port. "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

"Try and get rid of me." I teased, kissing him on the forehead and watching as his eyes drooped shut. He was soon oblivious to the world. I turned to Natasha who was standing at the foot of the bed looking worried. "Tell me everything."


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha insisted that she made us tea before she told the story. I doubt it was because she wanted anything, or that it was just a polite thing to do. No, I could see the anxiety rising in her. I knew that she was dreading whatever she was going to have to explain to me. But not one part of me cared; at least if part of me did it was too small for me to care.

"Tasha," I started to say before she cut me off and handed me a mug.

"I suppose this is where I'm suppose to tell you some small anecdote about how my mom always use to say some profound thing about how tea heals the soul. But I never knew my mom so I guess all I can do is give you this and hope for the best."

I gave her a faint smile. "Thank you." I raised my mug to indicate what I was thanking her for before returning it to rest in my lap. "Natasha, I need to know what happened."

She took the space on the couch next to me. "I know you do. I just need to get my thoughts lined up." I watched with thinly veiled patience. Luckily it didn't take long for her to collect herself. "If you have any questions then ask them. What I'm going to tell you is complicated at best. Feel free to stop me, but only if necessary."

Natasha took a breath before she started. "Clint was protecting something called the Tesseract. It's full capabilities are unknown, and what S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted it for is irrelevant and classified. Every surrounding the Tesseract was unknown to us and three days ago, when this all started, it started to act oddly. It wasn't long until a man named Loki appeared."

"Who's Loki?"

"Loki is an alien." My shock was not easily hidden. Natasha rose a hand before I could speak. "I know it's hard to believe, even after New York. But it's true. Loki came from the Tesseract, the cube, and after the director tried negotiating with him he. Loki acted hostile towards us and Clint got knocked down avoiding one of Loki's attacks. He wasn't injured, and was down for only a few seconds, but that was all the time that Loki needed."

Natasha looked at me for any questions I might have but I motioned for her to continue. I was too shocked to be able to ask anything right now. I also didn't trust myself to make any coherent sentences with all the thoughts rushing through my mind.

"Loki got the better of Clint and used a scepter to do something to him. What exactly happened to Clint we aren't sure of, but whatever it was took control of him. I saw the security footage and it was like nothing I had ever seen before. Loki forced Clint to shoot Fury before they left with the cube along with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lead scientist and a few other agents. I was called in from a different mission two hours later.

"Along with Coulson I gathered a team of highly specialised people that were screened to be in the Avengers Initiative. I'm sure Clint's talked to you about that." She was right. When Phil had told Clint that he was eligible to join the Avengers we spent all night talking about whether it was too risky or not. We still hadn't come up to decision on the issue yet, but New York seemed to have decided for us.

"Once the Avengers were gathered we went to tracking down the cube before Loki could use it against us. We tracked him to Germany and captured him, Clint managed to get out before we could get him too."

"So how did you find him?" I asked. Clint was not someone who could be found if he didn't want to be found. "You got him back so you obviously had to have found him somehow."

Nat looked down at her tea for a moment. Neither one of us had drank any of the steaming liquid. I doubted we would.

"We didn't find him. He, along with some guns for hire tried taking down the helicarrier. Damn near succeeded. But we were all able to pull our heads out of our ass' to fix the damage. That's when I found Clint. He had been heading free Loki from our detention zone when I got the call." She paused and looked lost in thought for a moment. "He tried to kill me. I had to cognitively re-calibrate him, basically smash his head into a railing. Which in return got Loki out of his head. The rest you saw on TV."

I was again stunned into silence. He tried to kill his best friend, and his boss. My husband had been someone's puppet. Suddenly a question popped in my mind that needed answering. "Are there any long term effects to whatever Loki did to him?"

Nat shook her head. "None so far. Though we can't know for sure; we've never seen anything like this. Long term effects can't be ruled out; most obviously of which is post-traumatic stress. A lot of people died on the helicarrier, and a lot of them died at his hands."

Dread made my stomach heavy. "Did he kill Phil?"

Immediately Nat shook her head and relief filled me. "No, Clint had nothing to do with Phil's death. Even so, with the others, those were not his fault. He had no control over his actions."

I was so relieved I felt like I could jump up and dance. Explaining the death of Clint's handler, and one of his best friends, was one thing. Explaining to him that Phil was killed by Clint. There was no way I could of telling Clint that. It would have destroyed him.

Putting aside my momentary relief I still had a few more burning questions. "How did Clint's leg get injured?"

Natasha grinned. "That was quite a stunt. The building that Clint was on top of was attacked so to get off the roof he jumped off like the idiot he is and used a grappling hook arrow to swing into one of the floors below. He cut his leg on broken glass."

That sounded like Clint. Making obscene risks and then having them work out in his favour. Only to get his karma for not dying with a life threatening injury. That was my Clint. Idiot.

"He just has to go and jump off every single building he's on doesn't he?"

"Wouldn't be Clint if he didn't" Natasha smirked and I returned it. She was right about that. Clint did always have a flare for the dramatic, which was quite annoying when the dramatic had a bad habit of nearly making him dead.

"Okay, last question." I quickly sobered my expression. This one was important. "Can Loki come after us?" If Clint was under Loki's control there was no way to know if he hadn't exposed our location to him. I needed to know if my children were in danger.

"No. He's got Thor watching him and a pair of pretty serious Asgardian handcuffs keeping him locked down. I've been told his powers do not work with them on. You're safe."

For the first time in three days I felt like I could relax. Clint was home. The world wasn't going to end. And my family was safe. I just began to realize how tired I was. "I should get some sleep if I'm going to have to deal with an injured Hawkeye. Have you noticed how whenever he gets injured he wants to do ten million different things that no one in his condition should even be thinking about?"

Natasha looked like she wanted to laugh her hardest, but thankfully didn't so she didn't wake up the kids. "That is the most accurate depiction of Clint Barton that I have ever heard in my life."

"That's the sad thing." I joked before setting my mug on the coffee table, and stood up. I didn't even take a sip out of it and if Nat wanted it she could have it. "I'm going to try and get some sleep. It's been a long three days."

Natasha made a noise of agreement as she sipped her tea. "Don't worry about the kids in the morning I can take them to your parents house."

I waved her off. "It would be best if I was there to explain what was going on. Besides you look to tired to handle the little beasts on your own. It's really no trouble." I started upstairs but not before wishing Nat good night which she returned over my shoulder.

I thought about sleeping in the guests room to give Clint his space while he healed. But then a protective instinct ran over me. It had been three days since I had last seen him, and most of that time he had been locked inside his mind being forced to kill his own. He needed me with him, not down the hall.

Entering our room I saw a few of the medics who had stuck around to keep an eye on Clint's vitals, something I couldn't make heads or tails of from the complicated lines and numbers that flashed across the screens. They were startled to see me.

"I would like to stay with him if that's alright?" I asked, but my tone didn't leave any room for them to argue with me. They noticed that and left right away, taking a portable device with them that would keep track of Clint's life signs in case something happened. Cause that is just what we needed. Another life or death emergency.

I put those thoughts out of my mind and put on some pajamas pants and stripped off my top shirt leaving the cami on before crawling into bed next to Clint. I was extremely grateful that the majority of the tubes that were connected to him were on the other side of his body so that I didn't have to fear that I would pull them out if I lay too close to him.

Clint's features were relaxed and his breathing was deep and steady. I wish that he could stay this pain free when he woke up but with his damaged leg and a dark bruise on his forehead would make for a killer headache. But he would recover. He always did.

It was then that I realized that there were tears running down my face. I wiped them away and breathed deeply trying to get myself under the control. But I don't need to be strong right now, I realized. I held up for my kids, for Clint, but now I didn't need to be strong for anyone. I needed to be weak for myself.

I let the emotions of every ounce of fear and anguish that I had felt over the past few days pour out of me. I wrapped my arms around my husband's chest, laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat solidly in his chest as long held tears soaked his shirt.

Losing Clint had been a real possibility, it always was with his line of work, but this time was different. Clint went up against the worst of humanity, sure, but they were just people. This was something that he was never trained for and no one had any idea how to handle. Setting aside the short lived alien invasion, someone had taken over his mind. The thought of Clint being forced to kill without his knowledge that he was even doing what he was doing is terrifying for so many reasons. If he wanted to my husband could easily take out kings and the most influential men in the world. With that man, Loki, as his commanding officer there was probably nothing that would be in their way of taking over the planet.

Except, of course, for Nat nearly smashing my husbands head in bringing him back to his own free will. I'd have to thank her for that later.

His whole reaction to being mind controlled was something that I wasn't even ready to deal with yet. Clint doesn't like when people give him orders, he'll take them, but only if he likes them. It was the reason that Natasha was alive still. Clint has a set of principles that he followed when it comes to who he will kill all of which fit around the point of he doesn't kill someone who he believes doesn't deserve to die. To have that taken away from him was something we would have to deal with when he was ready.

Eventually I found myself out of tears to cry and was just resting with my head still on Clint's chest listening to his heart beat. I must have looked quite pathetic but couldn't find it in me to care the slightest about my appearance in the moment. My family was back together. For the first time in three days I went to sleep without a black cloud of worry hanging over me.


End file.
